


Ame Damnee

by milkygalaxy



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angel Wings, Angst, Bathing/Washing, Child Abuse, Collars, Deal with a Devil, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Dressing and Undressing, Dubious Consent, Fallen Angel Bucky, Gentle Dom, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Past Child Abuse, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Praise Kink, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Silly Socks, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Sub Steve Rogers, incubus, not as depressing as it sounds, past bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 06:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5195552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkygalaxy/pseuds/milkygalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve lived a hellish life. His father, Alexander Pierce, was viciously abusive at home, physically, emotionally, and otherwise. He was also absolutely sure that his father was in a cult, or some sort of Satanist. This was confirmed when, one day, his father decided that he wants eternal youth and health, until his clock ran out. The way to get it? Sacrifice his son to the fallen angel named Winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goddessofpredators](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddessofpredators/gifts).



> I am dedicating this fic to my actual waifu, Goddessofpredators. I don't know how to hyperlink though, lol oops.

Steve had thought he lived an ordinary life for a long time. He thought it was normal to be yelled at for an A-, not an A+. He thought it was normal to be struck for speaking without being spoken to. He thought it was normal to be the apparent reason his mother had passed away when Steve was just four years old. 

Steve had thought that being bullied was normal at first, too. One day, though, one of his bullies said that he was a freak because his father hated him, and because he just let people hurt him. So he stopped. For the most part, at least. He still tried to be good for his father, because his father was the only person who loved him. That bully had been wrong about his father, he just  _knew_ it. 

He started to get into fights. Small, sickly, and weak, he was still a spitfire and would fight by pulling hair and thrashing like mad, using anything he could find as a shield. Garbage can lids, his desk, a chair, anything. That was when he started to get into a lot of trouble, both at school and at home. His father would hit him, belt him across the back, yell at him, and even though he fought everyone else, Steve never fought his father. 

Even though Steve loved his father, he was deathly afraid of him. Alexander Pierce was his name, and Steve had a very strong suspicion that his father was in a cult of those who worship demons and the devil. Every time that the midnight that signaled the beginning of Sunday came, Steve's father would be gone, disappeared to an unknown place. While it gave Steve time to relax for a fleeting two hours, he still worried. He had found troubling things when he searched his father's room. Strange sigils adorning aged paper, incenses that he had never seen used, and an ornate knife that seemed used. Steve was afraid of such things, and he had put everything back where he had found it, run back into his room, and done three Hail Mary's just to feel safe again. Steve wasn't even  _that_ religious. He was just so scared, finding such objects in his father's room when he had been only twelve years old. 

Now, though, he was eighteen years old, a senior in high school. He had gotten into a fight that day; someone had called him a slur he did not even want to think about, and he had snapped, punching the tall jock in the stomach. This, of course, led to more fighting, and the principal separating them. He didn't even write Steve up this time, just told him exasperatedly to stop fighting people, and to go home for the day. Steve had sighed and nodded, leaving after going to the nurse's office. At least she was nice to Steve, to any extent. Her name was Peggy, and she told him more stories about her wife, Angie, while she patched him up. Steve spent a lot of time in the nurse's office, not only for getting beaten up, but for his health problems as well, so he heard a lot of stories from the nurse.

After Steve had said goodbye to Nurse Peggy for the day, he walked home, limping a little from when the jock had slammed him down and Steve had landed on his knee. He tried not to think about it; he had much more to worry about, as his father was going to be home early today. He would have to try and stay out of his father's way. 

That wasn't the case though, as when Steve unlocked the door to his large, ornate home, Alexander Pierce was standing there, waiting for him.

"Son, come inside," he said, much more warmly than he usually did. That was concerning. Still, Steve walked into his home, closing and locking the front door behind him.

"Hello, Father," Steve said, making sure to look as harmless and small as possible. It made him nervous to have his father so close to him. Steve's father smiled and placed a hand on his frail shoulder. 

"Come now, sit down. We have much to discuss," he said, leading Steve to sit down on the couch. Alexander himself sat down in the reading chair close by. 

"Now, I need you to understand, I am the man of this household. I know I am harsh with you sometimes, but it is always for your best interest. Knowing that I give you everything you need, you need to give to me what I need as well," Alexander started, and Steve started to feel nervous, a gut feeling telling him this wasn't going to end well.

"Of-- of course, Father. What do you need?" he asked hesitantly. 

"I need you. I need your body and soul as a sacrifice in order for me to have eternal health and youth for the rest of my life," Alexander answered, as if such words were normal.

"You-- I-- What?!" Steve exclaimed, and then he looked down, panicked. "I'm sorry, sir, I just... I'm not sure I heard you correctly."

"It's alright, my son. I know you don't understand. You don't need to understand anyways. Your body and soul will be used anyways, so there's no real reason for you to need to know the logistics. My assistant will be readying you for the ritual," Alexander said, all too normally for the subject at hand. "Rumlow."

A man came into the room, and at first glance, he looked normal, if not a little bit shady. But after taking a good look at him, Steve noticed that his sclera were black, his irises blood red. Steve started to stand, hoping to run away as fast as possible. This man gave an even worse feeling than his father did. 

"Oh, don't run, my son. You'd never be able to escape, not with that scrawny body of yours," Alexander said, mocking and evil. Rumlow's grin revealed sharp teeth, and it felt like he was right behind Steve in a flash. Steve turned on his heels, arm back and hand in a fist as if ready to punch, but he had no chance to fight as he wanted to, because Rumlow was touching his fingertips to Steve's temple, and the world began to blur.

"P-please... don't do... this..." Steve breathed as his eyes became too heavy to hold open, and he collapsed, Rumlow catching him unceremoniously. 

"I would apologize, but I'm not actually sorry," Alexander said with a snort. Rumlow laughed as well, still holding Steve's limp body. "Rumlow, clean and ready him for the ceremony. Tonight, I will become who I am meant to be."

"Yes, sir. Hail." Rumlow nodded his head respectfully, and then he carried Steve upstairs to prepare him for what was to come. And oh, what was to come was not the life Steve had been used to for so many years. 

"Well then, kid, time to get you ready for your damn sacrifice to Winter. Maybe you'll get a special torture instead of the usual burning in Hell, as most humans that are sacrificed get, because of this fallen angel's name. God, I hope so. I always like it when the torture is  _unique_ ," Rumlow said, talking as if Steve was awake. 

And perhaps, if Steve were awake, he would have been able to run. 

But he would never be able to escape forever. This was inevitable. Winter would have his body and soul and torture Steve forever. Or so was assumed. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness! Thank you for all the comments, they make me smile and actually make me want to write more. Please enjoy this next chapter!(๑✧◡✧๑) ALSO. I am so so so sorry for the delay. My laptop broke and I just got a new one, so I can update again! Hooray!

_Hands on his skin._

_Water running._

_A soapy washcloth cleaning him._

_Being moved somewhere._

_A bed._

_Being dried with a towel._

_Hair being combed._

_Cloth draped around his shoulders, silk._

_Being moved somewhere again. A car?_

_What was happening...?_

Steve blinked himself back into awareness, and he discovered himself to be completely bare, save for the silk shawl around his shoulders. He was in a car. His father was driving, and Rumlow sat in the passenger's seat, looking back at him every once in a while. He was still unable to move, save for blinking and making a moaning noise that meant he wanted to get away.

"Sir, he's awake," Rumlow said, turning to Alexander. 

"Is he trying to break free?" Alexander replied.

"No, I think the drugs are only starting to wear off. We probably have a good hour before we need to worry."

"The ritual will be done by then. We need not worry." 

Steve was only half-listening to the conversation, too caught up in his actual predicament. He was in a car, and his father was going to sacrifice him to something, some demon, or even worse.  _Satan_. He couldn't move at all still, which was terrifying, and he knew he was probably going to die, and end up tortured in Hell for the rest of his days. All because of his father. Steve couldn't even seize up, because his body was stuck in a loose, sleepy state. Inside his mind, though, he was panicking. 

He lost time in his panic. Next thing he knew, the war was stopped. He felt enough strength in him to turn his head to look out of the window, and he saw a mansion. It was like something out of a fairy tale, not a passage out of the bible that explained Hell. Steve didn't know what he was expecting, but he didn't get enough time to really think about it, because Alexander was opening the door closest to Steve and ordering Rumlow to pick Steve up and carry him. Rumlow did as he was told easily, carrying Steve bridal style.

The inside of mansion was gorgeous as well. Even Steve, blurry eyed and sluggish, could tell you that. The floors were of marble and the staircases winding and beautiful. They were greeted by someone with curly red hair and piercing eyes, who silently lead them to a room that was emptied of furniture, save for a throne and tall candelabras, burning softly in the otherwise dark room. Hall? It was a giant, dark room. On the throne sat a man with just-past-jaw length brown hair, his eyes dark and grey. Steve could only imagine who this was. Steve was going to be sacrificed to this man to suffer for eternity, he was sure. 

Rumlow was still carrying Steve when Alexander spoke. "Almighty Winter, I have brought to you a sacrifice," he said reverently.

The man on the throne looked up, at the three of them. "A sacrifice? For what do you bring me this sacrifice?" Steve's blood didn't run cold like he had expected it. This man, Winter's, voice was soothing in a way Steve had never experienced before. However, this only made him more afraid. It had to be a lie, right?

"Eternal health and youth, until my dying day. I beg you, My Lord, to take this sacrifice and grant me my desires," Alexander said. It was so different from how he acted at home. Where here, he sounded vaguely nervous and obviously reverent, at home, he was cold and cruel in his tone. It was scary to think about that too. Steve was so scared.

Winter hummed softly for a moment as he mulled it over. He stared at Steve, the obvious sacrifice. "As you wish. Have him kneel on the cushion in front of my throne," he ordered, standing. This was it. Steve was going to die and go to Hell, or be tortured on Earth, and  _then_ die and go to Hell. Rumlow brought Steve to the cushion, making him kneel, and Steve found it easy to stay in position. The drugs he had been given were wearing off, but he was too afraid to move.

Walking up to Steve, Winter kneeled in front of Steve, who was staring holes into the ground. Winter gently took his chin in his hand, and made Steve look at him. 

"What is your name?" he asked. His voice was so warm. Why was that? Steve was silent, forgetting to answer. Winter quietly cleared his throat.

"S-Steve, sir," he murmured. The fact that Rumlow and Alexander were still in the room with him was distant in his mind. All that he cared about was Winter in front of him, touching him more gently than he had been touched in so long. 

"Alexander is using you as a sacrifice to gain health and youth, but I will grant the same to you. You may live with me, and that will be the deal. Do you consent to this, Steve?" Winter asked. Asked? Steve couldn't make sense of that, but it eased his heart, if only slightly.

"... I don't really have a choice anyways," he said, before realizing that he had made a mistake. "I-- I mean-- I'm so sorry, I--" Steve was cut off by Winter's other hand caressing his cheek. Steve trembled, his whole figure shaking.

"Do not worry, Steve. I understand," Winter agreed. His voice was quiet, only audible to Steve right now. "I will not hurt you."

Steve was silent as he stared into Winter's eyes. "Do you... Do you promise?" he asked, sounding small and childish.

Winter nodded. "I swear it."

Taking a deep breath, Steve shuddered.

"I consent."

"Thank you, Steve. Sleep now; I am going to perform the ritual." Steve's eyes drooped again, but as he looked around him, blinding white magic was filling the room and surrounding him and Winter. Steve imagined that if he turned around, it would be surrounding Alexander as well. 

Steve slept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years, guys! It's 2016, and I'm uploading 1.2k words of Bucky being grossly cute and considerate with Steve. Please, leave a kudo or comment if you enjoyed! Thank you, and I hope all your holidays have gone well.

Steve woke up, and he was warm. 

Warm, not hot. Not burning. 

He was covered in blankets; they felt like silk. Where was he?

"Steve, are you awake?" a voice asked, and he blinked himself into awareness. He was in a bed. It was a large bed, bigger than he had ever slept in. The room itself was elegantly decorated, and gave a lived-in impression. Winter was lying in bed next to him, giving Steve a warm smile as they both lay covered in soft blankets.

"...Yes, sir, I'm awake," he murmured, nervous and afraid.

"There's no need to call me that, Steve. Come on, let's sit up, I hate lying down for too long. I get antsy," Winter said, helping Steve to sit, leaned against the headboard of the bed. "Call me Winter. Or better yet, call me Bucky. It's a nickname; I made it up myself. It's short for Buchanan. James Buchanan Barnes is the name I use in public. It's human."

Was Winter, er, Bucky, for real? Steve sat in bed, blankets still covering his entire body, as he stared. "I... Yes, Bucky." Bucky was much different now from during the ceremony. 

Bucky sighed. "Listen, Steve. I know how you got here, and I know you probably don't trust me. You have no reason to do so, it's fine. But... I know about you. It comes with being an angel. Well, I'm a fallen angel now, but the powers don't go away. When I meet someone, when I am in someone's presence, I can see into their heart. You were so hurt, so afraid... but you  _wanted_ to fight back. Me, maybe. Alexander, probably. I wanted to get to know you. I want to help you. I can make you happy here. Alexander can't get to you here. Mortals aren't allowed anywhere except the front hall and the ceremonial hall. This is my room, my home. If you'd let me, I would keep you safe."

Steve didn't know what to say. "I... You... But you're..." he trailed off.

"A fallen angel. I know it sounds scary, but I promised back during the ceremony. I will never hurt you of my own volition, and I will not let any soul harm you. I swore to you, and I swear now. I will provide for you, food, clothing, anything you ask. It is unsafe for you to be in the open, so you cannot return to your school, but no worries. I know that sometimes I speak as if I'm ancient, but I know how online schooling works, and I can set that up if you want. Anything." It sounded unreal. Bucky had to be lying, but he sounded so honest, so viscerally real, that Steve's will to keep his distance wavered.

"If I said no... What would you do?" Steve asked, testing him.

"I would not be able to let you go entirely, as your soul is bound in contract, but I would stay out of your way, and give you what you need to survive and prosper on your own. You would live in one of the side buildings of this mansion, away from me. It would pain me, as you do interest me, Steve, but I would do this for you," Bucky promised. Steve swallowed thickly as he contemplated what he wanted to do. If he stayed with Bucky, he might be betrayed and hurt anyways, but that could always happen if he decided to not stay with him. 

"If I say yes now... May I change my mind later?" he asked uncertainly.

"Absolutely. You always have a choice here, Steve. So, what do you say?" 

"I'll stay with... with you, then, sir. Um-- I mean, Bucky," Steve decided, looking down at his hands for a second before looking Bucky in the eye. 

Bucky smiled wide and goofy, and pulled Steve into a warm hug. Steve, unused to such treatment, tensed for a second, but he soon relaxed into the hug, and gingerly hugged back. This was Steve's new life. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if Bucky continued to be so kind. He didn't know why, but he felt a small trust blossoming in his heart for Bucky. After about a minute of hugging, Bucky let go of Steve. 

"Would you mind terribly sleeping in my room with me from today on?" Bucky asked, now much more casual and relaxed than before.

"That would be fine, I think," Steve said. He had been so warm this morning. Bucky's bed was comfortable, and Steve liked the idea of not sleeping alone. He was aware that he was trusting Bucky more quickly than was logical, but at the point that he had gotten, why pass up any chance for comfort in life? Bucky just smiled at Steve again and stretched his arms. Before he had the chance to speak again, there was a knock at the door.

Bucky let the person knocking inside; they were a servant. The servant brought a tray with food on it, setting it down on the bedside table and bowing respectfully before scurrying off to do other chores.

"Steve, are you hungry? I will feed you myself if you so wish," Bucky said, sitting up straight in bed and leaning over to pull the tray to sit on hid lap. A few English Muffins sat on the tray, with a tiny bowl next to it, holding fluffy, fresh-looking butter. Next to the English Muffins was a bowl of cut fruit, including apples, oranges, some melon, peaches, and grapes. There were two glasses, full with orange juice. Steve's mouth watered at the sight of breakfast; he had not realized how hungry he was.

"Feed me? Like-- like, with your hands?" Steve asked, confused beyond belief. The idea didn't sound bad, though. Bucky laughed, a hearty sound full of joy. God, Steve loved it more than he should.

"Yes, Steve, by hand. Is that okay?" Bucky continued, using a butter knife to spread the butter onto an English Muffin as he spoke. Steve squirmed where he sat, and he pulled the blankets down so they were just covering his lap and legs. Oh, he had not realized he had been actually dressed. The clothing was too large, and smelled like the person next to him. It was pleasant.

Steve bit his lip, chewing on it absently. "Yes, it's okay." Bucky hummed happily and broke off a piece of buttered English Muffin, bringing it to Steve's lips. Steve trembled very slightly, nervous all of the sudden, but he calmed enough to open his mouth and take the piece. He chewed slowly, letting himself taste it. His eyes lit up and he looked right at Bucky, smiling more happily than he had in a while. 

"You're looking happy. Can I assume you like the food here?" Bucky said, his voice light and joking as he fed another piece to Steve, who nodded as his eyes closed. "I couldn't help but notice when I was dressing you. You are bruised on your left knee, and there are other small injuries on your body. Will you let my doctor look you over, patch you up?"

Steve felt nice, and cared for, so he just kept letting Bucky feed him, agreeing to see the doctor. He made a noise when the food placed on his tongue was suddenly not English Muffin, but it wasn't long before he was excited about the fruit he was being fed.

Breakfast went like that, just Bucky feeding a now happy Steve, as Bucky spoke, and Steve hummed his agreement or disagreement once in a while. After Steve had eaten his fill, Bucky ate his own breakfast without help. Steve found himself wishing he had fed Bucky in return.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just turned in a college application and i am exhausted from it, so here is another chapter that i am writing as pure comfort for myself. also, little tip for any artists out there: when coloring skin, look up how to do makeup contouring. it will help, i swear.

After breakfast, Bucky decided that they needed to get up. Even a fallen angel had to get out of bed, he knew.

“Come, Steve, we should get ready for the day,” Bucky said kindly after he and Steve finished off their orange juice.

Steve nodded and climbed out of bed. The carpet under his toes was soft and fluffy. If he were younger, Steve might have dropped to the ground and rolled around, just because he could. It took great effort to not do that right now, but he managed. He was a child at heart, he had to admit. Maybe if he was ever alone, he would indulge himself. For now though, he kept up appearances.

Bucky rolled out of bed himself, stretching his limbs as he stood. “Oh, I apologize for dressing you in my clothing for the moment. I had no time to get you new clothes, and I assumed you’d want to be there to pick out a wardrobe. There is a lot to do today, but I will be there the entire time, if you wish.”

“It’s okay. I kind of like it,” Steve said, his voice quiet and his smile small. “But-- yes, I would like you to be there.” He would probably be meeting people today, and Steve didn’t want to be alone for that. People were overwhelming sometimes, and Steve had never been comfortable around others anyways. Not after being bullied at school.

"Really? I'm glad, then. Will you let me get you dressed, and brush your hair?" Bucky asked, already looking through his closet. He peered over at Steve, who nodded, and responded with his own smile. "Alright then. We're definitely not the same clothing size, but I have a hoodie that will suffice, and boxers from when I appear in public at a younger age. I have to admit, I have a sort of fascination with humanity and their culture." Bucky pulled out the hoodie, red and soft looking, as well as the boxers, and he walked over to Steve, who was still standing next to the bed. This was actually the first time either of them were noticing their height differences, standing up next to each other.

"You're tall..." Steve said. He came up to about Bucky's chin, and their bodies had significant differences. Bucky was fit, arms muscular and strong. Steve was skinny, almost scarily so. "Bucky, you said that-- that I would have eternal health and youth, like my... my father. What does that mean?"

"It means that all the health issues that I saw while giving you said eternal health and youth will never bother you again, unless the magic is somehow interrupted. The scoliosis that you previously suffered from is gone, as is the asthma, anemia, everything. You will never age past your peak. You're healthy now, Steve," Bucky said, smile bright and cheery. 

Steve had to take a second to take it all in. He would never need to scramble for his inhaler, or moan in pain on the ground as chronic pain left him immobilized in his bed, unable to go to school. He reached around to touch his spine. He could feel the difference, the bones now straight and normal. He smiled softly, looking at Bucky.

"I didn't thank you before," Steve said, "I've always been sick. Thank you so much, Bucky."

"You're welcome. It was no problem at all; I wanted to help you." Bucky spoke as he walked up to Steve. He gently coaxed Steve into lifting his arms, and he removed Steve's shirt, the only thing on his body, leaving Steve bare. 

Bucky looked away, trying not to stare. It just made Steve blush, covering himself to retain some modesty. Bucky hastily apologized and dressed Steve in the boxers so that nothing was just hanging in the open. After that, he helped Steve into the hoodie, large enough that the sleeves of the hoodie covered his hands, and the boxers he wore only slightly showed under the hoodie. He then took a hair brush from the bedside table, and told Steve to sit on the bed. 

Bucky was gentle with Steve's hair as he brushed it out, not pulling or tugging, just coaxing any tangles away, taming his messy hair. "Your hair is soft," he said. 

"It is? Thank you," Steve responded. Then, they sat in a comfortable silence as Bucky brushed Steve's hair. When they were done, the hair brush was put away once more.

"If you'll give me a moment to get dressed, we can go and I'll introduce you to some of the people who live in the mansion with me," Bucky said kindly. Steve just nodded shyly and sat there. "Steve, you don't need to be nervous. I promised I would take care of you, and I will. I want you to be comfortable around me."

"Sorry, sir. Ah, I mean Bucky." Steve managed a smile as he looked up at Bucky. "Is it okay if I keep sitting down on the bed while you get dressed?"

"Of course, Steve. This is your home now, and I want you to be comfortable," Bucky said. He waited for a moment, and then he walked over to the closet, picking out comfortable clothing for the day. He changed quickly, and Steve averted his eyes so he wasn't staring.

Just from the glace he had of Bucky's body, Steve was red in the face. Bucky was attractive. That much was obvious. If what Bucky said was true, and he would take good care of Steve, then maybe he would become friends with Bucky, good friends. Maybe more, if he could. But that wasn't something to think about while Bucky was getting dressed.

Bucky turned back to Steve, now fully dressed. He was wearing loose fitting jeans, a long sleeved black shirt, and a grey short sleeved T-shirt over it. He also had socks on, ones with little green alien print on them. They made Steve smile.

"I forgot, you need socks... I think I have some you can wear. I'm sorry in advance, I don't have any ordinary socks. I like the ones with funny print on them," Bucky said sheepishly.

"That's okay," Steve said, "I think I like them." 

Bucky beamed, and nodded as he walked over to his drawers, rummaging through the socks.

"How about these? They're black, and they have little paw prints all over them," he offered, showing them to Steve. They would be a little big on Steve, but Steve didn't mind.

"I like them," Steve agreed, and Bucky threw the socks to Steve, and he slipped them onto his feet. They were soft and warm too. Everything that Bucky owned was soft and comfortable, beautiful and luxurious.

"Come on, then. I want you to meet my friends! They'll love you, I'm sure," Bucky said, walking over to Steve and helping him off the bed to stand. He took Steve's hand, and they left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve held Bucky's hand, letting him lead Steve to where he kept slippers. Bucky told Steve to put them on, which Steve did easily, then watching Bucky put on his own slippers. 

"Why don't I introduce you to Clint and Natalia first? I think you'll like them," Bucky said, smiling as he walked Steve through the elegant halls of his mansion. He began to ramble about them, telling anecdotes about the two.

"Okay, Bucky, " Steve said, a little nervous, but also excited. He had never had real friends before, and even though this was not the situation Steve had imagined himself finding friends in, he wanted that desperately. If these people were not as funny and kind as Bucky was making them out to be, he knew he would be disappointed, but it would be okay. This was a huge mansion; there had to be  _some_ people who would like him.

"They're probably in the living room right now. Clint likes watching TV in the morning, and he and Natalia are practically glued at the hip," Bucky said, leading Steve into said living room.

The red-haired woman from before was sprawled across a man's lap. The man had short, blond hair and looked pretty happy just to be watching TV. The woman had her hair up today, and she was dressed much more casual than before.

"Who's glued at the hip?" the woman said, looking over at Bucky. She smirked, and Steve blushed just seeing it.

"You and Clint, that's who. Now come on, I need to introduce you to someone." Bucky put a supportive hand on the back of Steve's neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "This is Steve. He was sacrificed last night by that Alexander Pierce guy. I don't like him. Too suspicious, and that demon that was with him was awful; I could sense it. Anyways, Steve is going to be staying here now." 

Steve guessed fairly easily that the man was Clint and the woman was Natasha. Natalia and Clint had gotten up and walked over to Steve and Bucky now. Natalia eyed Steve, looking him up and down, as if she were reading him. Clint was just grinning in the way that someone who knows something grins.

"Nice to meet you, Steve. Name's Clint, I'm a cupid. I used to be _the_ cupid, but life’s kind of a bitch,” Clint said, holding out his hand for Steve to shake. Steve hesitated for a second, but he did take Clint's hand.

"Nice to meet you too," Steve replied quietly, shaking Clint's hand. Once they were introduced, Clint stepped to the side so that Natalia could step forward.

"Natalia, but I go by a lot of names. Call me Natasha," she said. She shook Steve's hand as well, and smiled, though it looked more like a smirk than anything else.

"Oh, um, okay then, Natasha," Steve said. Maybe he'll be able to become friends with these people. They were already nicer than the people that he had gone to school with.

Bucky grinned and pulled Steve close by hooking an arm around his shoulders. "Be nice to him, alright? I know you like to mess with new people, Clint. Don't do that to him, or I'll find out, y'hear?

"Yeah, yeah, fine, killjoy," Clint said, lightly punching Bucky on the shoulder. But Steve was barely paying attention to that. He was thinking about how openly affectionate that Bucky was. That they all were, really. There were no real boundaries, just closeness and laughter. Steve craved that. He craved it more than anything else in the world, and here Bucky was, still keeping him close, arm hooked around Steve's shoulders. 

"Aaanyways. I have to go, because Steve still needs to meet Sam and then we need to go buy clothes that actually fit. Natalia, do you know if there's anything that would be fit for going out for the moment that would fit Steve? If there is, can you do me a favor and leave them on my bed? Pretty please?" Bucky asked, batting his eyelashes.

Natasha rolled her eyes, snorting. "Yes, yes, of course. Go, James. I'll take care of it."

Bucky's smile lit up the room, in Steve's opinion. "Thank you Natalia, you're the best!" He then whisked Steve away, out of the room and into the hallway. Bucky looked excited, more so than before.

"... What's... Are you okay?" Steve asked hesitantly, letting Bucky lead him wherever they were going. 

"I'm fine, Steve. I'm just excited, because I like you. I-- well, I like-- I just really want you to meet Sam. He's really nice, and I want you to be comfortable here. I could sense your loneliness, and I want to make sure you're never lonely again," Bucky said earnestly. It made Steve's heart hurt with the emotion he felt. Why was he so compelled to trust Bucky so soon after meeting him?

"I... I don't know what to say... I just... Thank you. Really, it means a lot to me." Steve had felt more compassion after having his soul sold than he had since before his mother died.

"It's nothing, Steve! Now come on, Sam should be this way," Bucky said, leading Steve into another room.

Steve smiled. He was really starting to like Bucky.


End file.
